Hidden Guise
by admhire
Summary: That which is hidden may be most powerful: Tyler proves to be a vital brother of the Covenant. Starring Baby Boy Tyler and Reid Garwin with Chase Collins.
1. 001

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_Hidden Guise :_  
Chapter One—What the hell are you doing here?

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_x_

Author: admhire

Rating: PG-13/M

Word Count: 1021

Summary: That which is hidden may be most powerful: Tyler proves to be a vital brother of the Covenant. _"Seek the road which makes death a fulfillment." –Dag Hammarskjöld_. Starring Baby Boy and Reid Garwin with Chase Collins.

Notes: This should be a fairly long fanfic despite my reputation of writing only oneshots and drabbles. Perhaps ten chapters? One can only hope I get that far. Nevertheless, Tyler Simms and Reid Garwin are the stars of this slight piece of fiction. I present a mild warning of character death, language and implied-non-graphic-rape; and advise you to take note of the time changes of each chapter—this story is divided by piece and put together in a unpredictable order for the benefit of the beholder. As for pairings (i.e. Reid/Tyler), it's only slash if you read it that way.

Mainly, I ask for patience—this is my first attempt at a chapter story. If you have questions, ask; if you're rude, don't expect anything. Advice and feedback is always welcome.

Disclaimer: Originally written and (presumably) owned by J.S. Cardone.

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Chase Collins ran his hands down his thighs as though to smooth the jean material stretched upon them. He was considering a thought, his eyes settled on the hardwood floor between the two beds in the dormitory, scratched and faded with the wear of many years' feet. The mahogany color was still rich, however, the initial wax-job was fading, creating the look of an old inn room whose least favorite word was "renovation." A pair of boxers poked from beneath the bed opposite him, supposedly Tyler's; they were royal blue and deeply contrasting with the floorboards. Next to them was a pair of too-small-to-be-comfortable shoes.

Chase blinked after a long moment, and looked to the dormitory door whose handle was turning. Just a few seconds and in clambered Tyler's slight figure, a couple of bags slung over his shoulders and arms. Unaware of Chase's presence, the boy busied himself with closing the door, dumping the bags, and throwing his keys to a dresser—a series of proceedings he practiced everyday in his return from classes. A wholesale minute passed before the older warlock's presence was noticed; the younger had stooped to pick up the half-hidden boxers and came face-to-face with Chase's leg.

"Shit!" Jumping back, startled, the brunette pinned his blue eyes to his schoolmate in suspicion. It was a profound glare, drenched in odium, but the other only smirked, almost wishing he'd said "boo."

"Surprise," Chase replied, his voice tainted with mischief. His hands slid further down his thighs, falling to the center of his lap clasped together, and both elbows propped his torso above his knees. "Those—" he gestured with one hand to the garment in Tyler's hand "—are my boxers, you know."

A silence sauntered between them, and he peered curiously at the standing dark-haired son of Ipswich. Then, he also stood, brushing down the front of his jeans, movements deliberately deferred. Satisfied and grinning, he held out his hand and waited for Tyler to react. The younger had fallen into a diminutive stupor in which his blue eyes blanked and stared, and time seem to pass over itself. When the seventeen-year-old at long last processed the comment, he regarded the Ipswich traitor and scowled.

Thrusting the briefs toward their owner's face, he solicited thus, "What the hell are you doing here?"

He swiveled and turned his back to Chase, snatching the too-small sneakers with him to toss into his closet. Then he went for one of his bags. Chase pursed his lips, stretching the elastic waist of royal blue, watching as the creases of the fabric flattened. The crease of his mouth followed suit until the ends curled, and folding the boxers, he muttered, "I thought you might have wanted these—" he glanced at Tyler "—you know, a keepsake."

Tyler kept his attention on the contents of his gym bag yet managed with forced calm, "Fucking keepsake for what?" The bag lay exposed on his bed, hands sifting through the items, psyche aware of Chase's stare. For a moment, the senior warlock had a despicable look of rejection perched on his features—it quickly faded as he glanced away from Tyler and back at the boxers which he slipped in the side of his jacket. Clearing his throat, his blank features meld into their usual smirk; Tyler picked up another bag with a loud drag against the floor.

"Don't you remember, Tyler?" Chase asked, his voice unusually smooth. He was once again watching the younger boy, body now facing him. Sliding his hands in his pockets, he stepped towards the bed, head tilted in question. The brunette continued to unpack, unwilling to be interrupted.

After a while, he replied, "I don't remember because nothing happened."

Chase frowned, and slowly braced himself on the bed. His eyes slipped beneath Tyler's line of vision on the base of the bag, and the youngest member of the Covenant was forced to regard the fifth. The elder's glower was gone, replaced by stoicism, but there still remained an air of dissatisfaction. Nevertheless, Chase was composed, leaning forward to face his prey so personally.

"Denial," he hissed—it was vicious yet somehow airy. Tyler turned his cheek to Chase as though the words were bad breath blown to his face, then retreated to a straighter posture. A very sly smile crept along the seam of Chase's lips and he too straightened.

In the silence that followed, the line between Tyler's eyebrows deepened and one could see that his tolerant demeanor was deserting him. It was somewhat unfortunate for the boy, for his emotions to be so easily read, because they led him to a quicker defeat. Even his brothers used it against him, if only for embarrassment purposes and swift teasings; Chase, of course, would employ it for far more serious affairs.

"Oh, the guilt," the warlock jeered. His eyes were glowing with sickening delight quite contrary to Tyler's whose blue eyes withered with anxiety. "What would Reid do if he found out?" The question might have been a grim one, especially with Chase advancing on him from around the bed; however, the color in Tyler's cheek suggested sudden amusement. Had the circumstances been different, he might have laughed—the proposal that Reid and him were "more than friends" was rather entertaining. Tyler felt unexpectedly comforted, the hasty thought that Chase Collins didn't know everything flouncing in his mind, and almost smirked under the elder's gaze.

"He might use against you," Chase mused, his proximity to the subordinate pushing him against the wall. "Or—" a calloused finger slipped down Tyler's jaw "—he might kill you."

Both of Chase's eyes blackened and a wisp of thread inched from his forefinger, stitching into the brunette's tan skin. Preparing to defend himself, Tyler endeavored to move a limb but found it was impossible. "You didn't think my first curse would be to hurt you, did you?" Chase smiled whilst Tyler paled. "I'm a bit smarter than _that_—cursing you motionless renders you powerless, and easily, you're mine." The smile wilted into a glower. "Mine for a little play date…"

_x_

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End of Chapter One. Review, please and thank you._  
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	2. 002

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_Hidden Guise :_  
Chapter Two—Going to be fuckin' powerful.

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_x_

Author: admhire

Rating: PG-13/M

Word Count: 1123

Summary: That which is hidden may be most powerful: Tyler proves to be a vital brother of the Covenant. _"Seek the road which makes death a fulfillment." –Dag Hammarskjöld_. Starring Baby Boy and Reid Garwin with Chase Collins.

Notes: This should be a fairly long fanfic despite my reputation of writing only oneshots and drabbles. Perhaps ten chapters? One can only hope I get that far. Nevertheless, Tyler Simms and Reid Garwin are the stars of this slight piece of fiction. I present a mild warning of character death, language and implied-non-graphic-rape; and advise you to take note of the time changes of each chapter—this story is divided by piece and put together in a unpredictable order for the benefit of the beholder. As for pairings (i.e. Reid/Tyler), it's only slash if you read it that way.

Mainly, I ask for patience—this is my first attempt at a chapter story. If you have questions, ask; if you're rude, don't expect anything. Advice and feedback is always welcome.

Disclaimer: Originally written and (presumably) owned by J.S. Cardone.

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"Will you look at that?"

Tyler peered around Reid, curious as to what had caught the blonde's attention. Of course, as usual, it was nothing but the opposite sex; a pair of girls had passed them by, the one closest raising her eyes in attempt to flirt. Reid Garwin, who paid no mind to morals, stared after her watching as the hem of her skirt bounced with her step. Tyler turned back to his basket of fries, dabbing the end of one in catsup. A small smile played at his lips, and he shook his head, amused.

"Sit down before you do something stupid," Pogue muttered between bites of his corndog.

"Reid doing something stupid is inevitable," Tyler countered, eyeing Reid who had yet to turn back to his food. The mouthy blonde was sideways in his stool, eyes following the next girl to cross his path.

"True," the second agreed, sliding the last piece of hotdog off the stick. Considering the sliver of wood, he absently tossed the stick at Reid sitting restless.

"Hey—" His hair whipped as he turned, and he frowned watching the stick bounce to the bare floor of Nicky's. His eyes flashed to the motorcyclist and a threatening glare obstructed his facial features; but it only lasted a few seconds—soon the boy turned back towards his food, brooding. He swirled a rubber french fry in the soufflé of catsup but didn't proceed to eat it.

"Don't sulk—" Pogue began, but Reid interrupted:

"I'm not _sulking_. I—" The blonde rolled his hunched shoulders, fry still in his hand. Both forearms were tilted on the edge of the bar and his right hand dangled over his food basket. The fry drenched in catsup, he lay on the side of his dish, and suspended another. This one, he ate with minimum consideration, and it became apparent to his two companions he didn't plan on saying more. Pogue smirked, rolling his eyes, and directed his attention elsewhere, skimming the room over his shoulder. Almost immediately, he commenced pushing his stool out to trot over to Kate who was seating herself at a table. Just as he hadn't bid them farewell, neither did Reid take notice of his departure. Reid ate another slice of seared potato, then turned to the youngest with inquiry. "Want to peace out and—Aaron is such a fuckin' dumbass—"

Tyler tried to suppress his amusement—Reid was so A.D.D. "Sure," he replied, smiling into his dish, held fry dropping back into the pile of the others.

"Good," Reid said, attention back on his roommate and away from the inept idiot his eyes tracked to the pool tables; standing, he kicked the stool under the counter and started towards the exit. Tyler followed suit, departing with one last suck from his straw and two glances around the parlor.

The night sputtered with chill—the air itself was a lukewarm haze, yet split by the occasional and very uncomfortable gust of wind sweeping along their path. Such drafts crossed them unexpectedly, and as they walked down the street, nibbled at their exposed skin.

This weather seemed to be Reid's ideal, and he walked align to the black-tar street with no attempt to guard himself from what Tyler shuddered against. Jacket wrapped about his torso and both hands shoved under his armpits, the younger of the two wondered with what could have been a touch of resentment why his fair-haired friend was leading them astray from their dormitory. But he had yet to gain the spirit of asking—instead, he watched the boy ahead of him tap his fingers along his chin in thought.

After a few more feet, Reid spun on his heel and tilted his head as if studying his companion, a simper curving his mouth.

"You Ascend in a week."

Tyler nodded, approaching Reid and proceeding to walk in stride with him. He hadn't given the event much thought; after three successful Ascensions, the occasion didn't take to its initial thrill for the Covenant's fourth.

Noting the indifference, the question was posed: "Aren't you excited?"

"Sure," he replied—the tone would have fit perfectly with a shrug. "I just haven't thought about it."

"Ah," Reid breathed, a real response not yet coming to mind. Both boys' eyes trailed the gravel upon which they walked whilst a morsel of silence stretched between their next few feet of stroll, and perhaps the moment was not awkward but the quiet did not go unnoticed. "Well…" Reid eased into the air only to be simultaneously interrupted by a justifying Tyler.

"I mean, it's not like it's not important to me," the youngest of the Convenant vindicated, his words aimed for the road. "But it's _just_ another Ascension. Once I Ascend, we'll all be equal in power—so, the quicker the better." He squeezed the chest beneath his arms tighter; and the frown cutting the line of his mouth transparently reflected his upset.

"I didn't know you were so impatient, Baby Boy," Reid sarcastically intoned.

"You guys must be sick of waiting for me to Ascend…"

Tyler's mood had not lightened when the blonde had attempted; and atop frustration, he seemed faintly distraught. This—was certainly unexpected. Fairly amused, and unthoughtfully so, Reid mulled over the situation with a look of self-restraint; the urge to snicker was poking him in the cheeks and it was all he could do to reply respectfully.

"I don't think we give a shit," he said, truth underlying his blithe tone. The usual smirk reappearing, he looked to Tyler—"If we're acting bitchy, it's probably because we know you're going to be fuckin' powerful when you Ascend. Kind of dreading it, you know?" Smirk effaced from his lips, he grinned.

Baby Boy endeavored to smile. "You're a shitty liar," he muttered, sneer on the verge of invading his features. And when Reid retorted with an indignant "look who's talking," Tyler couldn't help but shove the blonde off the curb of the sidewalk they'd migrated to with a replenished and uplifted smile.

Somewhere along the line, the two boys had made a turn which resulted in a circle, and before them by a hundred yards was Spenser Academy. From a perspective other than their own, one could tell they were having a frivolous conversation—Tyler plagued by a fit of laughter, Reid making sure he didn't run into anything. It was obvious the boy's disposition had improved, and in fact, he had forgotten about the notion entirely. As they drew near to the stoney boarding school, their speech was hushed to faint smirks. Then, as though this was the only thing Reid conversed, he declared, "That girl at Nicky's—she was so damn hot."

x

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End of Chapter Two. Reviews are always nice...

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	3. 003

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_Hidden Guise :_  
Chapter Three—Son of a—witch, actually.

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_x_

Author: admhire

Rating: PG-13/M

Word Count: 2087

Summary: That which is hidden may be most powerful: Tyler proves to be a vital brother of the Covenant. _"Seek the road which makes death a fulfillment." –Dag Hammarskjöld_. Starring Baby Boy Tyler and Reid Garwin with Chase Collins.

Notes: This should be a fairly long fanfic despite my reputation of writing only oneshots and drabbles. Perhaps ten chapters? One can only hope I get that far. Nevertheless, Tyler Simms and Reid Garwin are the stars of this slight piece of fiction. I present a mild warning of character death, language and implied-non-graphic-rape; and advise you to take note of the time changes of each chapter—this story is divided by piece and put together in a unpredictable order for the benefit of the beholder. As for pairings (i.e. Reid/Tyler), it's only slash if you read it that way.

Mainly, I ask for patience—this is my first attempt at a chapter story. If you have questions, ask; if you're rude, don't expect anything. Advice and feedback is always welcome.

Disclaimer: Originally written and (presumably) owned by J.S. Cardone.

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It was ten minutes passed eleven, and the communal shower on Tyler's hallway ran hot steam, so thick a vapor that it melted the skin and sent haphazard shivers down the spine. The brunette took a deep breath, careful to keep the water from his respiratory tract, letting the almost-scorching water drip down his back. The cold he'd felt on his walk outside just an hour before had seeped into the building, and the heat that rose in the bathroom-turned-sauna warmed his chilled body. Small strands of hair streamed across his jaw and neck, wriggling in the flow of the sprinkle, and the slender frame which he occupied ran clean of whatever dust he picked up from Nicky's and the like.

He reached for the shower knob, turning it slowly, letting the descent of water sooth his back just a moment more before the knob could turn no more, and the rush of the excess water splattered in one fell swoop from the shower head. Stringing his fingers through his hair, the refreshed boy stepped from the stall, swinging a towel around his body in quick fashion. He glanced towards the doorway, and then towards his pile of green plaid boxers, faded jeans, and t-shirt—checking both out of habit—then situated the towel properly, hoisted on his hips.

Facing the mirror, Tyler rubbed his face and inhaled significantly. Their conversation about Ascension might have lifted for a little while, but the youngest was back to scrutinizing the subject. He fingered his torso gently, running his index finger along his collarbone and down his chest plate, and speculated the practice of Ascension. No one but Chase had witnessed Caleb's and only Caleb had witnessed Pogue's. Both talked of trivial pain—something that seemed inevitable to Tyler—but what was actually painful differentiated between them. What each experienced, he didn't know—nobody seemed keen on talking about such incidents; Reid informed him directly after his own Ascension that he ought to be prepared because "it was so damn kick-ass." But the last to Ascend wasn't too sure how he might groom for the affair if he knew so little about the process. So it wasn't only the fact that he was Ascending so late compared to his brothers that frustrated him, but also the loom of being the least ready for it.

Only a week away.

Tyler bit his lower lip in the mirror. Water dripped down the sides of his face from the chance strays of brown that hadn't been slicked back, and his breath fogged the glass which painted his manifestation. Each lungful of air came steadily and silently amid his parted lips—for a long while, he only stared at himself, imagining the amount of strength he would gain.

"_If we're acting bitchy, it's because we know you're going to be fuckin' powerful when you Ascend_."

These words echoed in his head, Reid voicing them ad infinitum as though convincing only took repetition. Blinking with unnecessary force, he took a moment to believe everything was going to be all right—ideals recoiled amongst his doubts, and when all seemed still, he returned to his senses. Blue eyes examining again his movements through the panel of reflection, he gazed watchful at the fall of his chest as it expelled a hefty sigh.

A moment more and he turned to retire to his dormitory, inattentively calculating the time. He speculated a minimum of twenty minutes to midnight, but one could never be sure. Clearing his head to the best of his ability, he hoped Reid was still awake—a goodnight would be, to some extent, comforting. Funnily enough, concurrent to the thought, a silver-tongued "good evening, Tyler" reached his ears.

He knew not to expect Reid walking from around the doorframe, but severely anticipated the happening against the probing dread that it might not be _any_ of his brothers.

"How was that shower?"

Merely the drawl of the word "shower" sent his previous hopes crawling to the back of his mind; these vocalizations were never welcome to the first born son of the Simms family. Frowning as the owner of the voice appeared, he took no breath of effort to answer.

"Now don't be so cold," the enemy spoke. "You had thoughts pouring just a moment ago."

Chase's lower lip was sticking forward ever-so-subtly, hardly a milli-millimeter forward; however, just that simple protrusion seemed to change his features dramatically. It was a protuberance full of both pout and arrogance—certainly a patented concoction—that spoke almost too boldly of its owner.

The skin that covered Tyler's blue eyes tapered in border-disinterest. "I'm not much in the talking mood," he muttered.

"Aren't you?" Chase was a step ahead of Tyler—he strode in front of the door that the younger had arranged to walk through. The brunette sought to lose the senior warlock altogether by simply marching away from him; however, his only exit was promptly blocked.

"Move."

"Don't be so edgy, Baby Boy." Chase smiled, a glint passing through his eye. "You're Ascension will be a walk in the park."

Tyler wasn't sure which angered him more about this user—the way he unfittingly exploited the name "Baby Boy" (which wasn't to be articulated by anyone but his brothers) or the way he shoved so foolishly into his business. Really, it didn't matter which incensed him more—either way, his view would perpetually portray the Covenant adversary as a conceited and deceptive conniver.

The tapered blue eyes which he employed to glare at Chase became strictly narrow; in reaction, the eighteen-year-old only omitted his smile, palpably still motivated to continue his plan despite Tyler's evident irritation.

"I said _move_." The command scooted through Tyler's delicate lips, coldly unleashed.

"I stepped in front of you for a reason—" Chase ran his line of vision across the wall behind his prey, then dutifully returned to the eyes opposite him "—don't think I'm going to let you go so easily."

"Collins—"

"Don't make threats, Tyler," Chase snapped; then, developing a gentler tone: "They're unbecoming of you." The elder Ipswich smiled, then under his breath murmured, "But I suppose that's the only time you're not handsome…"

His eyes had drifted from the boyish face which he complimented and onto his own fingernails. One may have supposed a blush appeared upon Chase's cheeks when he said this, but no such thing had risen. In fact, he appeared to be very calm, scrutinizing the enamel at the tip of his fingers, the air about him similar to that of exchanging greetings.

To Tyler, on the other hand, the comment was alarming. Though a low mutter, there was no doubt the compliment was made, and the slight boy became suddenly alert. Firmly was Tyler's impression that such a flattering remark, no matter its disturbance, had little prospect of ever escaping Chase's throat; compliments were horrendously _rare_ (with the exception of Caleb whose power Chase revered), and one that would speak of fondness—well, they were nonexistent. These facts taken into account, one can probably imagine how traumatizing to Tyler the current notion the older warlock was implying was.

"Don't act so surprised," Chase sighed, addressing his companion with a sideways glance. "Were you not so naïve, you might have caught on sooner." When Tyler made no immediate comment, he continued, brightening, "However, if your naiveté bothered me, I wouldn't be here enjoying myself."

The sly smile he was so apt to wear solidified on the seam of his lips. And brashly but leisurely, he reached forward to Tyler, skimming the tan epidermis exposed at his collarbone. A black line, like ink, sunk into the seventeen-year-old's skin; Chase's smile broadened.

"May I?" he queried, as though asking to borrow Tyler's pencil; he pressed tentatively forward, stepping closer to Tyler, but the young warlock backed away, an obdurate look gracing his features.

Glancing towards the door, he stated quite firmly, "I'm leaving."

The older boy frowned. "I'm afraid that's not an option." Whilst these words were spoken, and shortly thereafter, Chase's smallish hand clenched as though about a thread and yanked. With the tug, Tyler felt himself involuntarily jerk forward; the motion had come directly from his chest plate—looking down, he could see the black was spreading.

"You son of a _bitch_."

The warlock in control rose a solitary eyebrow. "Son of a—witch, actually." Tyler growled in response. Chase, sickening though it was, chuckled in spite of himself; and when he saw that the only reaction he was eliciting from Tyler was a scowl, he smirked. Seductively he reeled in his hostage, collecting the invisible string and drawing him near—their bodies touched.

"Your only option is to obey," came the demand, whispered into Tyler's ear. Tyler lidded his eyes, his will to resist fading alike to his mind into grey blotches; he felt the curse seep deeper into his health, like ink into his organs, and he thought abstractedly of Reid—if the blonde was wondering where he was, wondering why his shower was taking so damn long.

"Chase—" Tyler choked.

"Mm?" was the reply, muffled and preoccupied.

"Does Reid know?"

There was breath along his neck, trailing about his jaw; and coolness along the length of his body, flat and slick against his back. Bewildered, as coherence of thoughts was unfeasible, he followed the motions he was directed through. Chase had straddled the boy between him and the tiled bathroom wall—comfortably; all he still wore was a pair of dirtied jeans and boxers underneath while both his shirt and Tyler's towel were elsewhere.

Chase licked his lips, pulling himself away from Tyler's helpless body. And he looked into the eyes of his one-year junior, answering, "Not yet."

Presently, Tyler could hardly make sense of the answer as he had already forgotten the question; however, somehow—miraculously—it reminded him of his blond best friend and for some reason, planted a wish in his mind to be powerful. Power, unfortunately, could not be factored into his current situation unless in terms of Chase Collins. So the thought subsided…

As all thinking did until he was dropped quite the distance from the floor. He processed a short-fused curse and yell, then felt his limp body snatched up from its clumsy arrangement. There were four hands and a nasty exchange which involved too much ferocity; Tyler groaned.

There was an arm bent about his waist, and he felt it pull him towards whatever direction its body was going.

"Little fucker—give that shit here." He felt another jerk.

"He was passed out in the showers—"

"Don't give me that. You did something, Collins, and you _will_ regret it."

A door slammed and something was thrown to the floor. The fourth of the Covenant cringed at the volume; tense and sore and sensitive, he wondered if the day after Ascending felt akin to this. Oh, but it was too exhausting to think.

"Tyler. Baby Boy, come on—open those eyes."

Reid knelt by the side of the bed, desperate for response. He wasn't particularly ecstatic that Chase Collins had dragged Tyler's bare and lifeless body to his door at two in the morning with nothing but the lame excuse that he'd "found" Baby Boy unconscious in a shower stall. For one thing, Reid was not an idiot. For another, he knew Collins was at fault. And for a third—

"Reid?" Tyler's rejoin was weak, but it was nonetheless audible.

"Baby Boy—" Reid spoke, his voice low with relief "—thought I'd lost you there. Welcome back." The blond gazed intently at Tyler, watching his slow blinks and stiff movements. He began to apologize for the incident, for falling asleep and not checking upon him, but Tyler just shook his head once, then unhurriedly re-closed his eyes.

Eyes still on him, Reid let out a gradual sigh that ended with his lips curved in a small smirk; Baby Boy always made it through, no matter the circumstances. Fairly satisfied, and prepared to wait until morning to interrogate the boy, Reid rose to his feet. Yawning, he stretched his lithe body and wandered over to the dresser to stuff with his shirt, on the way kicking the pile of clothes he'd seized from Collins and threw to the floor. Over it tumbled with the thrust of his foot, revealing two pairs of boxers: one green plaid and the other royal blue, the latter sliding just a bit further under the bed.

_x_

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End. Let me know your thoughts—please and thank you.

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